#100 Xenophobia

We've hit 100 posts! If this blog were a monthly comic book, like the old The Adventures of Superman series that my blog's name references, hitting triple digits would be a big deal. For a (normally) weekly blog, that's not as impressive, but, I think it's still pretty cool. Thanks for reading, everbody!

Now let's get down to business. This week I'd like to talk about xenophobia. If you're unfamiliar with the word, it refers to the fear of strangers. Normally, xenophobia is used to describe fear and even hatred of foreigners, but it can be applied more broadly. I'd like to use it in a broader sense here. Let's think of xenophobia as the fear of people who are different.

I think xenophobia is deep in every human heart. We tend to be more comfortable with people that we think are similar to us. Often we default to language of "us" and "them" in our conversations and thought. Obviously the membership of those groups varies based on what we're talking about, but there are few things simpler or easier than dividing humanity into people like us and people not like us. I would guess most of the time our us-them divisions are unconscious, and I think many times we don't mean anything bad by them. But we tend to think better of ourselves than others, and so we tend to think better of us than them. I think constantly thinking of other people as different from us makes it easier for us to be suspicious of them. Who are we going to trust? Ourselves or people who are different? It's easy for us to distance ourselves from others and let that distance turn into fear and then hatred. Think about our conversations about political parties or immigration or gender and sexuality. How often do we speak poorly of "them"? How often do we worry about what "they" might be up to? Simply by being biased towards ourselves, we can quickly become biased against others. It doesn't take much for that to lead to fear and even hatred. There are few things that I think we should be more concerned about in our lives that unchecked xenophobia.

Thankfully, in the midst of our xenophobia, Jesus teaches us to love everyone, including those who are different. I'm not sure I can think of a lesson that is more difficult or more important for us than that. Jesus calls us to love every person we encounter as much as we love ourselves, no matter how different they might be and no matter how much they love us back. Jesus could have treated everybody—you and me included—as "them." He's perfect. No one else is. But instead Jesus reached out to bring all kinds of people into "us," making all kinds of people His sisters and brothers. He challenges you and me to think of no one else as unable to be part of "us." Sure, people are different. Those differences can't just be ignored; many times, in fact, they should even be celebrated. But Jesus teaches that everyone is created and loved by God, broken and hurt by sin and evil, and able to be redeemed and renewed in Him. That common human condition can help you and me see past "us" and "them." Others may be different, but others are not totally different than we are.

Xenophobia doesn't fit with Christainity. But sadly, xenophobia has been taught to us and ingrained in us all our lives. Our biases are real and deep. We can't totally get rid of them. But what we can do is become more aware of them. (Click this link if you'd like some tests that could help with that.) We can try to be on the lookout to avoid slipping into us-them language. And most of all, we can ask Jesus to help us love others because "perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18). This kind of love understands that others may fear and hate us, but it doesn't worry about that. This kind of love trusts that God can and hopes that God will use us loving others to help overcome that fear and hatred. Jesus loves us, and He wants to teach us to love others, too.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#99 Tolerance

Tolerance might be the highest virtue in the eyes of American society. We tell others, "You do you." We think that nobody has the right to judge us. We figure that if someone's actions aren't actively harming another person, then that's nobody's business. And for the most part, that sounds pretty good. Intolerance, in comparison, sounds awful. That brings to mind images of intense judgmentalism, people screaming that others are wrong, accusatory fingers pointing, people getting kicked out. Clearly judgment taken to the extreme isn't good.

But here's the thing: no matter what we may think, tolerance taken to the extreme isn't good either. Tolerance seems like love. It seems like respect for others and concern for their happiness. Many times tolerance is right. We shouldn't think less of others who have different tastes in food or entertainment. We shouldn't discriminate against others who aren't like us, especially when they're not like us because of differences in things we can't control. But ultimately tolerance becomes indifference. "Do whatever you want. I don't care." And that's not love. In some ways, that's the opposite of love. Love cares deeply about another person.

As Christians we're called to love. We can't just be tolerant without exception. I get why that's appealing. Many times Christians come across as overly judgmental. That doesn't look good, and it isn't good, either. It's not loving to be harsh toward others, even when they do wrong. But it's also not loving to simply allow others to do wrong. When it comes to moral issues, tolerance seems better than judgmentalism, and maybe it even is better than judgmentalism, but is not the answer. As Christians we believe that sins hurt us, even when they don't hurt anyone else, and even when they don't seem to hurt us. Love is finding a way to gently tell others when they've gone wrong while also being very honest about the fact that we go wrong in just as many ways. We need to understand that our sense of right and wrong can often be skewed and not be too quick to pronounce behaviors wrong. We need to be careful about not harshly judging others for things we do ourselves. We need to be compassionate and consider why people do things that are wrong. We need to be forgiving. But we can't just tolerate everything. We need to witness to what's right, and we need to love. We should treat others the way we want to be treated. And I know that I don't want to be tolerated; I want to be loved, even when learning I'm wrong may hurt.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#98 Daaaa!

Yesterday afternoon I took a nap. Lanie was outside playing with Tess and my parents, so I took the opportunity to crash. When my family returned after a pretty long play session, I was still passed out. Tess poked her head through the bedroom door, saw that I was still sleeping, and left to change Lanie's diaper. Once Lanie was clean, Tess set her back on the floor and turned away to wash her hands. Lanie, having figured out where I was, made a break for our bedroom. Tess had pulled the door shut, but it hadn't latched, enabling Lanie to smack the door open. She burst into the room, yelling, "Daaaa! Daaaadaaaa Daaaadaaaa!" while pointing at me. This wake-up left me more than a little surprised, but Lanie was just beaming, so proud that she had found me. It definitely wasn't the gentlest wake-up call, but I think it was probably the cutest. Don't worry, everybody: Lanie is here to make sure I'm not too lazy.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#97 The Ten Commandments

Yesterday I wrapped up a summer sermon series on the Ten Commandments. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the commandments and what they look like in our lives over the past couple months, and one of the many things I've realized is that, in a way, the Second through Tenth Commandments help us keep the First Commandment (You shall have no other gods). Let me explain my reasoning.

The Second Commandment (You shall not make for yourself an image) focuses on how we worship God. If we worship God our way instead of His way, it's quickly becomes easy for us to worship not the true God but a "God" of our own design.

The Third Commandment (You shall not misuse the name of the LORD) instructs us to give God the glory He is due. If we talk about God in a disrespectful or flippant way, it can become more difficult for us to really trust that He is real and in control. Then we're more likely to turn somewhere else for our security.

The Fourth Commandment (Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy) is a safeguard to keep us from turning our own work and efforts into our god. This commandment reminds us that ultimately it's God who provides for us and makes us secure.

The Fifth Commandment (Honor your father and your mother) teaches us to respect the authorities God has set over us as a way of respecting God's ultimate authority. It also reminds those of us who have authority that our authority comes from God; we are not free to do whatever we want.

The Sixth Commandment (You shall not murder) reminds us that only God has the power of life and death. We may not think we are gods and have the power to destroy others, nor may we let our anger, hatred, or desire for revenge control our lives.

The Seventh Commandment (You shall not commit adultery) keeps us from making pleasure and sexual desire the most important thing in our lives. Sex is a gift from God and must be enjoyed according to God's rules.

The Eighth Commandment (You shall not steal) teaches us not to make gods out of our possessions and material things. God tells us that we find contentment in Him, not all the stuff we have.

The Ninth Commandment (You shall not give false testimony) is a safeguard against the temptation to put our reputation first in our lives and say whatever we want to make ourselves look good and others look bad. God reminds us that we are accountable to Him and so must speak the truth.

The Tenth Commandment (You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor) instructs us to keep our priorities straight. We may not desire anything more than God. Having proper desires is a safeguard against allowing other things to become the most important things in our lives. We live by God's rules, not another set of rules.

Now there's a lot more to the Ten Commandments than what I've laid out here, but I think this is valuable because it's often easy for us to think about the commandments as ten distinct things. Each commandment is unique, but they're really not separate. They work together to teach us to love God with all our hearts, souls, minds, and strength. And when we do that, we show it in part by loving our neighbors as ourselves. Living our way ultimatley leads to misery, so God teaches us the way to joy and peace and true life.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#96 11 Years and 132,274 Miles

Janie, my beloved 1999 Honda Civic, is no longer mine. After more than eleven years together, I traded Janie in on Saturday. She put on 132,274 more miles after I got her in high school, but she was really starting to show some signs of age lately. So while the weather is still nice and before we had to put more money into Janie, whether for repairs or new tires, Tess and I decided to get another vehicle. (I know I've said in the past that I wouldn't look for another vehicle unless baby #2 was on the way. However, THAT IS NOT THE CASE. TESS AND I ARE NOT EXPECTING ANOTHER BABY. We just wanted to make sure Janie didn't die on our hands.)

I'm going to miss Janie. Eleven years is a long time. I finished high school, went through college and seminary, and got two years into my first "real" job with that car. I knew all her little quirks and perks. Deep in my bones I knew what parking spaces I could fit into and how much time I needed to get up to speed when turning onto a new road. I developed a keen sense of how much luggage I could fit in the trunk, and I'd recently become an expert at feeding the seatbelt through a carseat. Tess, Lanie, my parents, my sister, and several different groups of friends rode in that Civic. So many of my most favorite memories involve my first car. Janie's a car, an object, and yet she was something more to me. Janie was practically my friend.

Saturday was bittersweet, but saying good-bye wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Part of that is probably that I actually do realize that Janie is a vehicle and doesn't have feelings. But part of that is also that, as my grandma Susan said to me a couple weeks ago, that car didn't owe me anything. She lasted longer for me than she maybe had a right to. We had a lot of great times, but it was time to move on. Janie's earned a rest. So I took a few pictures to commemorate our final moments together:

One last odometer reading

One more time behind the wheel

The last picture of Janie and me

So Janie is gone. But the Honda Odyssey (whatever her name will end up being) is here. We'll just have to get started on a whole new set of memories.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#95 Again to Carthage

At some point in my college running career I read my friend Ryan's copy of Once a Runner. This novel, written by John L. Parker, Jr., follows a collegiate miler named Quenton Cassidy, who develops into an Olympic-level talent. I have no idea what it's like to be that good of a runner, but the beginning of the book talked about the day in and day out routine of training, the highs and lows of working to get better bit by bit. I understood that, and I resonated with the descriptions of being part of a team, sharing the hard work and the commitment and all the crazy, goofy nonsense that comes from spending probably too much time together.

Over the past couple weeks I read Again to Carthage, the sequel to Once a Runner. This book follows Quenton Cassidy's attempt to qualify for the Olympics in the marathon years after his college days. I've spent this summer doing a little training to get in shape to run a respectable 10k, so I could relate a bit to the struggle of getting back to running hard as well as the familiarity and joy of settling into a routine and improving once more. But what really struck me about Again to Carthage were the scenes were Cassidy reminisced about the good old days of running with his teammates. As Parker writes, even when you're in good shape, it takes a while to run 6-10 miles, as my teammates and I did most days in college. You get to know each other really well over all those miles, and then you add in all the trips to meets and all the other times we hung out because we'd become such good friends through all that running. We became brothers.

There are times I wish I could run the kind of times I ran in college. Races didn't always go well, but when they did, they were electrifying. Sometimes I miss the training, too. I hated it at times, but there's something deeply satisfying about getting better and better and better. But what I really miss about my college running days is my teammates. I run alone now. For the most part I like it. I get some good thinking done on my runs. But being part of a team was so much better. We had a pack of guys throughout the week, and even on the weekend I could grab at least one of my teammates to keep me company. We'd talk about anything and everything because we had the time. We shared dreams and worries and so many experiences. I miss that. A lot. But at least the memories are there. I had seven seasons where I got to make best friends while doing something I loved. I won't forget that.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#94 Sometimes You Get What You Deserve

[Author's note: July was a rough month for the blog. Only 2 posts! Yikes! I'll try to be more consistent in August.]

When I was a little kid, I had nearly boundless energy. My parents and grandparents love to tell stories about how I would incessantly bounce up and down, even while doing activites that are normally pretty stationary, such as playing video games. In school I would rock back and forth in my desk, seemingly unable to sit still for even a moment. You could almost tire yourself out simply by watching me.

Now, a couple decades later, I have a child of my own. And Lanie, like many toddlers, just wants to go, go, go. This past weekend we attended my cousin Kaytlin's wedding. In between the ceremony and the reception, the guests chatted in small groups. Lanie quickly decided that wasn't fun for her. So she started running laps around a nearby group. Then she weaved in and out among the circles, happily yelling as she went. Then it was time for more circles. On and on it went. And all the while, Lanie kept looking back to make sure that I was following her because if she was going to run, I needed to come along. Round and round and in and out we went. Needless to say, I didn't get very many conversations in. But as I contentedly followed my nearly tireless daughter, I did manage to comment to my grandma and a few others who had watched me run around and around and around (and probably chased me themselves) years ago, "I guess I'm getting what I deserve."

Grace and peace,
BMH